


the soul spell and the moonlit apothecary

by bidness, i_am_not



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Accidental Plot, Anal Sex, Breathplay, Domestic Fluff, Edgeplay, Husbands, M/M, Magic, Malec Smut, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Potions, Romantic Fluff, Runes, Sensory prompts, Sweet, Table Sex, The Magician - Freeform, Tumblr Prompt, Wall Sex, alec is feeling 5 per cent ignored and 95 per cent thirsty, alec is insanely turned on by magnus' cat eyes, bidness: don't forget breathplay (just to be safe), bois are very thirsty ok?, don't question the amount of smut, let the record show, magnus is always 100 per cent thirsty, magnus is always fixating on alec's runes, these are facts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23635753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bidness/pseuds/bidness, https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_not/pseuds/i_am_not
Summary: Magnus Bane has lived for centuries, has derived so much pleasure from more bodies than he could ever count. But, not like this, never like this. No person has ever looked upon him with such reverence, with so much love.It will perhaps be the greatest irony of his long life that out of everyone else, he went and fell in love with a shadowhunter.And when Alec kisses him, his full lips swollen and hot against his inner thigh, staring at him through those long lashes, a challenging smirk quirking his mouth to one side, time stops for Magnus.He reaches out, slow and tentative, afraid to let go of the moment just yet. Afraid, because the brazen lust and greed and want in Alec’s eyes, all for him, will very soon morph into service for his pleasure, and suddenly, Magnus isn’t sure if it's the fragility of the moment, or of his heart that he’s most afraid of.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 14
Kudos: 98
Collections: Malec





	the soul spell and the moonlit apothecary

**Author's Note:**

> **Based on numbers 8, 29 and 44 from the sensory prompts challenge: cold glass and fog, burning wood, distant traffic.**
> 
> This was the first time for both bidness and I, collaborating on a story, having reached out to one another through the comments section on this very site!  
> It has been a riot to work with this incredible, incredible person, always so kind and soft and unassuming. I loved doing this, you're an absolute delight to work with. And you have a way with words that made me fall back in love with descriptive storytelling, I love you, bidness!
> 
> This has been a labour of love and sweat (wink wink, violent coughing)
> 
> We hope you enjoy this <3

* * *

**_the soul spell and the moonlit apothecary_ **

part i - the moonlit apothecary

* * *

It’s the fifth time in a row that Alec has woken up to find Magnus gone from their bed. The clear moonlight filtering in through the white curtains lights up the room brightly enough for Alec to gauge the expansive sense of emptiness that he feels without Magnus by his side. Alec’s heart begins to beat faster. His gaze sweeps the void beside him and his hand feels for the cool dampness from the rumpled sheets that were warm from their coupling not two hours ago. He sighs heavily, letting sleep evaporate from his eyes before lifting himself off the bed.

There’s a scent in the air that swirls his senses awake, spicy and woodsy, with a hint of sweetness that calls him from the blanketed warmth of their bed and out into the chilled air of their loft. The door to their bedroom has been left wide open, and from his position, he can see that there is a small gap in the floor length windows of their balcony. A shiver runs through him, making his fingers twitch with the need to find Magnus, to seek out the comfort of his husband’s body that he knows is waiting for him somewhere close by. There’s also a deeper current of tension, _what if something happened while he was asleep?_ Alec activates his stealth rune, _just in case_. He doesn’t have time to grab his shirt as he reaches for his seraph blade and steals out of their bedroom, quiet on his bare feet.

His sharp sense of smell detects the intimately familiar lavender but with a twist of burning pine leaves, the combination sparking recognition in his mind; he knows Magnus has disappeared into his apothecary again. With trepidation and equally hesitant steps, he begins to close the distance between him and the apothecary--an extension of their home to house Magnus’ growing store that he had created upon their arrival in Alicante--which was accessible through the balcony.

Their drawing room is empty and devoid of any signs of his warlock. Alec hears a noise, hardly a whisper above the sounds of the city life below. A recently desegregated Alicante, _alive_ in all of its nightlife glory: the celebration has been ceaseless ever since the Demon Towers had been reconfigured to allow in downworlders.

Alec’s senses, already keen and further heightened by runic power, are quick to respond, following the low buzz of what sounds like voices. With the seraph blade glowing in his hand, he spans the rest of the room in easy steps. The low, rhythmic, humming sound of ancient chthonic grows louder in his ears, and Alec feels placated in the knowledge that it's only his husband’s soft voice. The need to make sure Magnus is safe is always at the forefront of his mind, but now that he is wide awake and appeased that Magnus is in no danger, he can’t deny the curiosity that flickers to life. 

Magnus had recently become obsessed with trying to replicate an obscure potion from the Book of Souls. Alec had expressed his concern when Magnus had mentioned it. He had no prior knowledge of this book, and for good reason. It was a forbidden artefact in Nephilim Alicante and, so far, had belonged exclusively in the libraries of Edom. It was also fabled to have been a part of Lucifer’s very own collection. Magnus had promised him it was perfectly safe, and it _probably_ was and frankly, Alec didn’t mind. Really, he _didn’t_ mind that Magnus liked spending _so much time_ with an obscure book, his ringed fingers dancing across the pages, touching them delicately, poring over them lovingly, his dark eyes twinkling from the thrill of absorbing knowledge; his whole mind on a plane Alec had no way of accessing or comprehending.

So it stood, Alec _didn’t actually_ mind . . . _but_ he would also be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that waking up in the middle of the night and not finding the heat of Magnus’ body, snug and limber, lulling him back down into the vestiges of sleep didn’t leave him feeling bereft and irked.

With shy steps, soundlessly in an attempt to not disturb the reverence of Magnus’ work, Alec clicks the windows shut behind him, turns right and peers through the entrance in front of him that leads into Magnus’ apothecary. Alec presses delicate, unsure fingers against the glass doors. He doesn’t come here often, and tonight, the moonlight has illuminated the haze from the flora contained inside, making everything glimmer, it looked . . . _ethereal_. 

Alec finds his breath fogging against the cool, clear glass, and bathed in the luminescence of the moon, Magnus looks _otherworldly_. His movements fluid and trance-like draw Alec’s eyes along the curves of his lithe body. Alec lets out a shuddering breath and pushes the doors open, stepping inside.

_It's so warm_. Alec’s skin tingles and his cheeks immediately flush with the heat. The humidity gathers on his back, settles on his shoulders and rolls down his neck, but Alec’s senses are distracted by the chaotic variety of paraphernalia spread on a thick wooden surface on his left. He feels overwhelmed, surrounded by the glittering and glowing fluorescence of the strangest manner of plants that look _alive,_ floating and chittering in large transparent jars, carefully labelled in Magnus' flamboyant cursive hand. At the very end of the rectangular space, on shelves spanning from the ceiling to the floor, Magnus’ own herbs, spices, remedies and potions were arranged carefully. More plants and flowers hang around the apothecary, blooming into a canopy against the glass walls, the spicy scent of pinewood and lavender concentrating the air. The closest thing in Alec’s imagination, that looked anything like this, was the Seelie realm.

  
Alec feels transported to a different world where time feels suspended in the thickness of its atmosphere; his heart and body aches with a sudden and tremendous need, desperate at the sight of _his_ gorgeous, unearthly man standing in the centre of the room. He feels transfixed by Magnus who is only a few feet away now, his back turned towards him, looking like some kind of fantastical being surrounded by sights and scents that are not of this earth. Alec gazes on hungrily, his eyes taking in his husband’s dark blue satin robe as he steps closer.

  
For the briefest of moments, it feels like he’s trespassing on something sacred. 

“Alexander,” comes his husband’s quiet voice, immediately dispelling any inkling of doubt. Magnus turns and curls his fingers, beckoning Alec towards him, his eyes amber, “you’re awake!”

“You weren’t in bed,” Alec says, blatant and straightforward when he manages to find his voice. “Again.”

“I’ve done it!” Magnus says instead, his eyes bright with a sense of accomplishment. “I daresay I have finally brewed a successful potion, it's ready for the spell.”

“Magnus--” Alec starts, an uncomfortable sense of concern blooming in his throat. “Is this a good idea?”

Magnus holds out his hand, “Come take a look.”

Alec is close enough to see the large brass cauldron sitting on crackling firewood. It smells like Magnus’ shampoo. Some kind of dark liquid simmers inside of it, but Alec can’t make out the exact colour in the dim light.

“Sandalwood, from Mysore,” Magnus explains.

Alec grunts noncommittally in response, his eyes following the path from the cauldron to Magnus. He wants to ask about it, wants to get answers. _It’s what he deserves after having to wake up to an empty bed so many nights at a stretch._

But suddenly, all he can focus on is Magnus’ chest. With every little movement, his loosely tied robe falling open, slipping off of a shoulder, the beads around his neck shifting against the sheen of sweat that has left his skin glistening. Alec has a violent urge to lean in and run his tongue along the lines of his throat. _Really_ , the cauldron is the _furthest_ thing from his mind. It doesn’t matter what colour liquid is simmering in front of Magnus, it doesn't matter the sounds or scents that come from the darkest corners of the apothecary, because Magnus is now watching him with unmistakable heat in his eyes, a storm brewing inside them, _a challenge_. Alec lifts a hand to Magnus’ chest, feels his fingers touch and press against the smooth, unmarked nakedness in front of him, feels himself _ache_ with want. Magnus leans into his touch.

Alec can’t help but stare at the muscles moving in Magnus’ neck as he swallows and shudders in response, sharp and saturated with the mirrored desire that fills the space between them. In his captivated state, Alec doesn’t notice Magnus moving into that space, closing the distance between them and tugging him forward, palms hot and needy around the back of Alec’s neck. With practised movements, Alec sets down his seraph blade, slips his arms around Magnus and clutches tightly onto his robe, pulling him flush against himself. The satin of it is smooth, slipping open under their combined movement, but against Alec’s overheated skin it’s _too_ rough and he tugs at it impatiently, pulling until it falls away into a forgotten pool on the floor.

Magnus tastes _so hot_ , his tongue warm and wet and urgent inside Alec’s mouth and his hands kneading the muscles of his back, Alec has to fight the growl that threatens to rise in his throat. With the fabric of Magnus’ robe no longer a barrier between them, Alec glides his hands down along the swell of Magnus’ arse, his fingertips digging into the flesh. Magnus moans against Alec’s mouth, breaking their kiss to bite sharply into Alec’s lower lip and pulls it in between his teeth. Alec hisses at the sudden sensation and Magnus grinds against him, both of them breathless and achingly hard.

Magnus splays a hand on Alec’s chest, his fingers tracing the wedding rune from memory. He takes his time, wandering on Alec’s skin slick with sweat and hot against his fingertips, exploring languidly down the grooves of his tight abdominal muscles. He delights in the quiver of Alec's skin and the sharp inhale of breath against his ear that he’s rewarded with. Magnus cranes his neck to bite along the skin of his deflect rune, his mouth greedy and leaving a wet trail while his fingers slip downwards, lower until they are grazing against Alec’s rapidly hardening bulge. Alec gasps and Magnus’ fingers tug at his boxer briefs, slipping beneath its waistband, his hand curling around Alec. Magnus feels him grow harder at his touch and he applies more pressure, moving his hand--slick with his precum--up and down slowly.  
**  
** “Magnus,” Alec rasps in his ear, his breathing erratic.  
  
Magnus pulls back to look into his husband’s eyes, the hazel of it dark in the diffused moonlight and molten with want. He steals a long, sweet kiss from Alec’s parted lips. Before Magnus can pull away, Alec pulls him back into another searing kiss, his hand pressing against the nape of his neck, leaving Magnus breathless for more, _so much more_ of the intoxicating feeling of kissing his _husband_. Alec searches his face, eyes dancing with sinful mirth as he slowly lowers himself onto his knees. His hands on Magnus’ thighs are resolute in their endeavour, pushing them apart and dislodging Magnus’ balance, causing him to twist his fingers into and grasp at the strands of Alec’s hair.

Alec stares up at him with hooded eyes, scorching and intense and Magnus is certain that the same desire is reflected in his own, renewing a fire in him that isn’t just the want of his body. 

Magnus is continually surprised by Alec, in his innocence when he baulks at strong liquor, in his strength and power as a soldier. But most importantly, in Alec’s profound humility which never lets his sense of righteousness obscure the larger purpose of his considerable Nephilim gifts; and in his softness, when he will casually pull Magnus near himself whenever they’re outside the sanctuary of their home, uncaring and never shying away from the attention it brings to his person. Alec has ceased to be staid in his expression, a far cry from when he had taken those first tentative steps towards Magnus, opening himself up, slowly. And Magnus won’t admit it, but the possessive side of his heart swells with smug satisfaction when Alec’s arm slips onto his shoulders or around his waist, or even when their fingers brush from the close proximity they always seem to move around in; whether in the company of others, or whether they’re out exploring the city on their own. Alec constantly seeks to be close to Magnus--he preens under the undivided attention--refusing to let him slip away further than a few feet for any given amount of time, his eyes always watchful, their senses always attuned.

Or perhaps Magnus is most awed by Alec’s bluntness even in his fervour and that steals Magnus’ breath away. _I want them to remember that . . . Alec Lightwood loved a man so much that he changed the world for him_ : Alec had told him and Magnus had locked it away deep in his heart for selfishly careful safe-keeping forever. Magnus may be the warlock but it is Alec who has bewitched him, body, mind and soul. Something that hasn’t happened to Magnus, _never like this_. Not in all of his years and _years_ of living has he ever felt as _alive_ as he does when Alec is with him, offering himself so completely and willingly. 

Magnus is rendered breathless with just the memories of the way Alec gets with him when they’re alone, like right now: his hazel eyes dark and heated and drawing Magnus deeper into depths whose intensity he is sure he will never recover from, for as long as he lives. He’s wanted this, always wanted someone like Alec who will make him _feel_ so deeply everything that this world has to offer. Alec, who will smile at him with so much happiness in his eyes that Magnus’ chest twinges painfully with the feeling that he doesn’t deserve it. And when Alec kisses him, his full lips swollen and hot against his inner thigh, staring at him through those long lashes, a challenging smirk quirking his mouth to one side, time stops for Magnus. He reaches out, slow and tentative, afraid to let go of the moment just yet. Afraid, because the brazen lust and greed and want in Alec’s eyes, _all for him_ , will very soon morph into service for his pleasure, and suddenly, Magnus isn’t sure if it's the fragility of the moment, or of his heart that he’s most afraid of.

He swallows thickly and nods his assent, grasping tighter at Alec’s thick hair. Who is Magnus Lightwood-Bane to deny Raziel’s very own _anything_?

Alec licks his lips and directs his gaze to Magnus’ erection. Magnus feels himself twitch under the scrutiny. Alec has never been tentative with him, not even during the very first time they made love. His directness shines through in every aspect of their entwined lives and Magnus finds himself admiring that _most ardently_ , thriving off of the naked admiration Alec’s eyes shower him with. 

Alec wastes no time, doesn't prepare Magnus for when he wraps a hand around the base of his cock, his long fingers curling around its width. The smoothness of his tongue runs flat against and around the head of Magnus’ leaking cock and Alec promptly takes him inside his mouth, full lips stretching around the thickness, breath humid against it. Magnus grasps tighter onto his hair and lets a ragged moan escape his throat. Just the sight of Alec’s lips around him, the muscle of his face stretching along his sharp cheekbones is enough to send Magnus over the edge, and when Alec gazes up at him again through his lashes, Magnus can’t tear his eyes away. 

“A-Alexander” Magnus whimpers, Alec’s name never-ending upon his lips.

Alec doesn’t respond with words, his only acknowledgement is the slow, teasing press of his tongue along the underside of Magnus’ cock. It’s all he needs, he thinks, he could survive on this alone, the feeling of Alec’s mouth working so sensuously, triggering every nerve ending. But when Alec slides his mouth down deeper around his hardness and Magnus’ feels the head of his cock hit the back of his throat, he breaks into a moan that’s helplessly needy and wanton. And Alec reminds him over and over again just how good he can make Magnus feel, shows him how easily he can strip away all of his inhibitions with a swirl of his tongue. It’s only a few moments, perhaps not even two whole minutes, before Magnus is trembling, the fingers in Alec’s hair clutching and releasing with indecision because even though Alec has just begun Magnus is already so far gone. The vision below him, Alec’s hollowed cheeks and eyes flared with a desire so strong it twists his stomach in pleasure, has brought him so close to the edge that he’s not sure he wants to come back. 

Magnus stops short, his stream of thought grinding to a halt because, all of a sudden Alec stops, pulls his lips away with a delicious smile and Magnus wants to cry out, helpless, indignant. And maybe he does, because Alec’s eyes are narrowed in satisfaction, pleased with himself. He wants to open his mouth to say something, to protest, but words are just falling from his lips incoherently, and he thinks that they must have come out all wrong when Alec’s fingers begin their ascent up his length, agonizingly slow. Magnus knows when he’s being teased, he easily reads all of the signs of incredible torment Alec’s bringing upon his being, but he doesn’t care. He is too far gone to care because Alec knows all the ways to make him fall apart, and the meticulous fingers that stroke him closer, ghosting over his tip, pressing along the base, fill his mind with the haze of lust. 

Unable to string together a coherent sentence, his incomplete thoughts like sequiturs escape him in open-mouthed gasps of humid air, floating away, up into this silver night. The wisps of clouds flitting over the moon create a play of light and dark, charting Magnus’ own descent into pleasure. His thoughts are strewn in his mind, half-formed and diluted with ecstasy, but Magnus wants _more_. He wants Alec’s mouth and he wants to feel the warmth around his cock again, _needs_ Alec so strongly that he hopes the soft whine is enough of a plea to catch Alec’s attention. And when Magnus is just about to lose hope, he feels the hot breath against his cock and remembers all of the reasons he loves this man.

It’s almost too much for him, Magnus realises: Alec’s tongue that’s wet and heavy as it licks a slow line up his cock, his mouth hot around the head, sucking reverently at his tip. It’s _too much_ and _not enough_ and Magnus can’t even begin to fathom the words to tell Alec how close he is, nothing more than the broken shudder he releases. 

He feels the familiar tight heat gathering between his legs, twisting hotly, _singing_ in his veins and coiling in his hips, making his thighs _shiver_ and he’s _just_ \--A _loud_ moan escapes his throat the sound rising from deep within his very core--and he’s _about to_ \--

  
  
The beginnings of Magnus’ rapturous expression of bliss morphs into a cry of indignation, his body trembling and bereft of Alec’s warm breath as his husband stands up in a swift, calculated motion. Alec reaches to hold Magnus, grips his arms with frenzied fervour and pulls him into a desperate kiss that makes him forget why he was outraged in the first place. Magnus loses himself, lost in the moment, drowning so heavily in the enthusiastic lips of his husband that he doesn’t notice Alec is directing them away until they’re met with the resistance of his hardwood desk by the doors.

  
They work quickly, pushing away the wide variety of paraphernalia, sending them clattering without a second thought, carelessly knocking over empty flower pots which shatter upon impact with the stone floor. Magnus vaguely considers magicking them back, but the fog of his lust is thick in his mind and Alec’s relentless mouth and hands are all over him, hot and urgent, and they’re all he can fixate on at the moment.

  
He’s shoved down hard on the tabletop and Alec is upon him in an instant, jostling him onto his back, trapping him between his palms splayed flat on the surface on either side of Magnus’ head. And right there, surrounded by the musty scent from the parchment and old books and wood and wet soil, Alec leans in to devour his mouth like he’s been starved for contact, moving down his throat, his tongue laving up the salt of his skin. His hands begin moving, rough and determined against Magnus’ chest, feverish fingers seeking to deliberately explore every inch of Magnus’ body he can reach **.**

“No,” Magnus clutches his fingers, his voice a low husk that barely registers as a protest. His amber eyes flashing with heat at Alec, “More. _Now_.” His demanding tone sends a deep shiver up Alec’s inner thigh, making him _ache_.

Alec obliges, leans back and hurriedly spreads Magnus’ legs, pushing them apart with his body and grabbing his arms for purchase as he angles himself along his entrance. A needy whine tears out of Magnus’ throat while Alec slicks himself from his tip to the base with spit. 

“So _impatient_ ,” Alec smirks. Then, without preamble and before Magnus can even think of a response, Alec enters him with a loud grunt, his hands squeezing where he’s holding onto Magnus.

Magnus throws his head back, the intense onslaught of pleasure causing his spine to arch off the surface at the sudden feeling of fullness inside him. One of his legs curls around Alec's waist, needing to feel him closer as his other leg is thrown over Alec’s right shoulder. Fingers, blunt and calloused, are digging into the quivering flesh of his thigh, holding him steady as he surrenders his body to Alec, his heart thundering. Magnus presses his palms flat against the glass windows for support, and his head jerks back in the unbearable euphoria of the sensations blooming through every nerve and fibre of his body. With every deep thrust of Alec’s hips meeting his, Magnus grunts and moans with abandon, his voice hoarse from it. Alec’s free hand grazes the line of Magnus’ jaw, tilting his face towards him. Alec’s mouth is dry from watching Magnus writhe beneath him, watching his beautiful wheatish skin bathed in a sheen of sweat, his chest heaving under Alec’s palm. Alec knows he’ll never love anyone by any measure so beautiful again. The strings of beads and chains around his neck tinkle and clink with every hard, impatient thrust of their hips, the moonlight glinting off of them with every movement.

“Magnus,” he coaxes, his voice impossibly thick. “ _Look_ at me.”

Magnus’ head snaps towards Alec’s, his glowing amber eyes boring into Alec’s darker ones. The moonlight throws Alec’s features into sharp relief, drawing him into a dark silhouette against the bright luminescence of the flora.

Magnus reaches out to touch Alec’s face, his thumb tracing the fullness of his mouth. Alec chases his thumb and takes it between his plump lips, his tongue swirling around it, pulling and sucking. Magnus drinks in the sight of Alec’s pale skin, whiter in the moonlight, flushing a deep red from the exertion. 

_Beautiful_.

Magnus Bane has lived for centuries, has derived so much pleasure from more bodies than he could ever count. But, not like this, _never_ like this. No person has ever looked upon him with such complete reverence, with _so much_ love. It will perhaps be the greatest irony of his _long_ life that out of everyone else, he went and fell in love with a shadowhunter. And Magnus was certain defeat had never ever tasted so sweet. Now that his _darling_ Alexander, tied to him for life with the promise of many such moments, was giving him _so much_ pleasure and taking his breath away from loving him so _hard_ , Magnus feels like he’d burst from happiness.

Alec’s free hand wraps around Magnus’ cock, twisting and tugging at him _just right_ , eliciting fragile whimpers from his lips, and Magnus can’t bear it anymore. He knows what’s next, he can feel the hold of Alec’s fingers against his hips and finds himself leaning into Alec’s touches, needing so much more. Magnus reaches to grip Alec’s wrist, tightening his hand against his rapid pulse, and guides it up the overheated space between their bodies. He feels desperate, the sights, sounds and feel of Alec coursing through all of his senses, vibrating against his sensitive skin, his mind remains unwavering in its want. The cords of his necklaces snag on Alec’s fingers, curious and willing, but Alec continues anyway, letting himself be led until their hands are pressing against the throbbing of Magnus’ neck. Magnus doesn’t let go, his palm lingering on the back of Alec’s hand, urging him silently into applying more pressure.

The hammering of Magnus’ heart is loud in his ears, and he casts his honeyed eyes to meet Alec’s once more, the scorching desire he finds spiking thrills low in his cock, and his resolve to stay balanced on the edge is tenuous. Alec watches him, careful and studious, and Magnus sees every emotion that’s displayed against the background of the night. He feels the strokes of Alec’s hand gliding along his cock, feels the entirety of Alec’s length slipping hard into him with each thrust, and when Alec’s fingers find the pulse of Magnus’ neck and tighten imperceptibly, the space around him heightens vividly. The foliage of the plants that hang loosely behind Alec becomes a bright emerald, the rainbowed array of flowers interspersed within them incandescent in the light of the moon, and the swirled earthy tones of Alec’s eyes that blaze above him are _so_ lucent and clear with love.

He comes undone under Alec’s gaze, eyes that always seem to be looking through his every vulnerability, into the deepest recesses of his soul, tearing down his defences all at once. It’s overwhelming, and Magnus feels the sting of tears in his eyes as he cries out in release, spurting uncontrollably over their joined hands, his husband’s name on his lips.

Alec’s movements quicken, the sounds of his name on Magnus’ lips entrancing and echoing in the heavy air of the apothecary. _His_ husband, so beautiful and striking beneath him in the throes of his climax, is enough for the blossoming warmth to fully tighten in his lower abdomen. He won’t last long, the white-hot heat of his orgasm is already enclosing around the edges of his vision, building against the back of his eyelids, and his hips snap forward into Magnus with a crazed intensity.

In an unanticipated movement, Magnus hastily sits up and throws his arms around Alec, fingers digging into the muscles of his back. Magnus rolls his hips, convulsing around Alec inside of him, murmuring hot sounds of encouragement, loud in Alec’s ears without the dull sounds of the soft chitter of the flora that surrounds them. _And when has Alexander Lightwood-Bane ever stood a chance against that kind of treatment?_ He finishes with a long groan, the sound muffling into the crook of Magnus’ neck where he’s buried his face.

They stay there like that, holding onto one another, breathing away the seconds, the heat seeping out of their bodies. After a while, Alec slips down to sit beside Magnus, resting his head on his shoulder and collecting his breath. His hands are busy, his fingers lazily tracing the shapes and lines of Magnus’ thigh.

“What’s the matter?” Magnus asks once a few moments pass. He pushes away the wayward strands of Alec’s hair when he lifts his eyes to look at him, resting his chin on Magnus’ shoulder.

“Nothing,” Alec sighs. “I’ve just . . . I missed you.”

“Oh?” Magnus chuckles, “I hadn’t noticed.”

“ _Hilarious_ , Mr Lightwood-Bane.” Alec deadpans, raising his eyebrows.

“We’ve made quite the mess,” Magnus observes, cringing at the broken pots and spilt soil beneath them on the floor.

“Well,” Alec begins, “You could always do your _thing_ , you know.” He adds a motion, gesticulating with his large hands in an admittedly graceless imitation of Magnus. “Anyway, it’s late. Let's go to bed.”

“Yes,” Magnus yawns in response, feeling the beginnings of tiredness sink in.

But they remain sitting for a little while longer, talking and giggling between idle touches and exchanges of soft sweet pecks, basking in mutual adoration inside a bubble of domestic intimacy like only the two of them could muster.

Later, when they’re at the door and Magnus is about to pull it open, Alec tugs on his arm, stopping him. He’s about to question it, ready to turn and ask Alec what’s wrong, but before he has the chance Alec is right behind him, pressing his palm against the cold glass, their fingers entwined. Alec pushes against him, the weight of his body a solid pressure as his hands slip to Magnus’ front, wandering his chest and tangling in the chains around his neck. Magnus stifles the smile that begins to pull at his lips. The insatiable hunger his shadowhunter has for him is endearing, but he doesn’t have time to give it much thought because Alec is crowding close behind him, and Magnus can feel him growing hard again, stirring to life against the small of his back in search of friction. The precious moments they shared not long ago are quickly overshadowed by the electricity that currents in the air now, rousing the seductive fantasies of Alec on his knees to the front of Magnus’ mind.

“Alec” Magnus grunts, “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Alec doesn’t respond, instead, he kisses Magnus’ neck, hot and languid. Magnus feels his own cock twitch in interest, the heated skin of his face pressing against the glass under Alec’s weight. Alec’s hand is on him again, gently urging his cock to life, and it doesn’t take much. He already feels the spike of arousal at the pure _need_ Alec is lavishing upon him, already half-hard against the skilful workings of his husband.

“Alec,” Magnus says again, his voice wavering in its resolve as he turns to face him.

“Fuck, Magnus,” Alec breathes against his lips when Magnus finally turns towards him. “You’re _killing_ me here.” 

They meet in a slow kiss that grows desperate with each breath they draw from one another. 

Magnus summons Alec’s stele, a quick motion that’s almost inherent now that he’s married to the Nephilim, offering it to him when they break apart to breathe. Alec swallows, skin tingling from the scorching trail that Magnus’ eyes induce across his body, motioning towards his palm and directing Alec’s gaze. His breath hitches at the implication, and he takes Magnus’ hand to hold in his larger one, rearranging his stele between Magnus' fingers around which Alec curls his grip.

Together, they run it over his strength rune on the right side of his torso and up to the stamina rune inside his right bicep. His stele vanishes from Magnus’ palm, a fleeting memory of the moment, and when Alec reaches his hands under Magnus to pull him up against the glass, Magnus’ legs wrap around him instinctively. 

Alec kisses Magnus feverishly, by turns soft and urgent, all over his face, around his mouth, and down to his neck. He lifts a hand to wet his fingers on his tongue and reaches behind Magnus, gently probing along the line between his arse. He hears Magnus gasp wantonly, the ring of muscles clamping down around Alec's fingers at the intrusion before quickly relaxing again, and Alec slips another finger in, preparing him with care despite his fervid enthusiasm. He searches his husband’s face, watches the way his lips part and the way Magnus frantically nods his assent, spurring him on.

Alec pulls Magnus up hard against him, trapping him between the heat of his body and the cold pane of glass. He ducks his head, mouth pressing reverently against the imitated wedding rune upon his heart that Alec insisted for him, _for them_. 

Magnus loses count of the number of times he feels his breath still. Alec looks at him, rapt, fiery and passionate--this close, his eyes are bright, his pupils blown wide against a darker hazel with shards of silver from the moonlight. Alec's breath comes hotly against Magnus’ lips, and Magnus can’t help but bite down on them, can’t help the low moan that goes straight through Alec, heavy and charged.

Alec positions himself between Magnus’ spread legs, slipping inside easily when he has Magnus’ body exactly where he wants. He begins to move, slowly at first, shifting gradually as he lets Magnus adjust before the thrusts of his hips renew with the power from his recently activated runes, that are aglow with a dull vermillion against his flushed skin. Magnus’ eyes trail across Alec’s body, heady from pleasure, tracing the path from the strength rune up to the stealth rune on his right shoulder. He tips his head forward to touch his lips to it, a subtle brush that quickly becomes exhilarated as he imitates the shape with his tongue and bites down sharply beside it. Enraptured with the shallow moan he receives from Alec, Magnus repeats the motion, his teeth and tongue marking red spots and a wet line along Alec’s collarbone, up to the deflect rune that Magnus favours so much, retracing it down to his left shoulder. His tongue glides over the muscles that are taut and flexed to keep him perfectly lifted for Alec’s relentless desire, skims along the change rune he meets, and he bites at its length, his own pleasure already gathering into a lump in his throat that’s only further aggravated by the sounds he’s eliciting from Alec’s mouth, nibbling _hotly_ on his earlobe, tracing around his ear cuffs.

“M-Magnus,” Alec’s voice is barely audible above the sounds of their passion, saturated so heavily in sex that if it weren’t his name he wouldn’t have recognized it as a word. Alec’s almost there, and Magnus can feel it in the erratic movements of his hips, the tremble of his arms that isn’t from exertion, but from the overwhelming sensations of pleasure. 

A shadow looms large on their loft door.

It tests the careful wards, aware that they weren't something to be easily breached. But the hands that work swiftly, drawing a pentagram with Edom's dust, belongs to someone who has certainly come well prepared.

In their living room, otherwise quiet against the contrast of the city life outside, the entrance of the door clicks open so softly any mundane would have missed it. Through the small gap, a thin, lithe figure slips in, attempting to remain undetected as the door closes behind it and enshrouds the room to its previous degree of darkness.

Alec hears it first, a movement so subtle, it could've been the wind--a benefit of his activated runes--and Magnus is still writhing in his arms, delicious and tempting with his face buried in Alec’s neck, groaning exquisitely and blissfully unaware. From his position, Alec shifts his focus over Magnus’ shoulder to the shadow that falls on the glass doors, morphing into a silhouette of a hood and a long cloak. Black booted toes peep out, crossing the threshold of their balcony before promptly withdrawing into the darkness of their drawing room, just as soon as Alec barely catches a glimpse of it--the sharp glint of a _katana_ and the blackness of a masked face underneath a hood. 

Alec tenses immediately. He snaps his head back, sharp with the adrenaline coursing through his veins, and his body jerks hard against Magnus, sending his husband over the edge again. A deep moan tears out from Magnus’ throat as he finishes, biting down in total ecstasy on Alec's shoulder, finishing hot and hard against their slick bodies tight against one another. Then he slumps against Alec's solid form, breath coming in heavy pants against the hollow of his husband’s neck, limbs loose from the intense wave of his orgasm thrumming through his blood.

  
“What is it?” Magnus manages to gasp, exhaling against Alec’s cheek, sensing the incredible tautness emanating from Alec's stiff body under his careful hands.

Alec slips out of him, sneaking an arm around Magnus’ waist to support him against his side, and lowers him down gently. He bends swiftly to retrieve their clothes and his seraph blade, pressing a quick kiss to Magnus' forehead.

“Get dressed,” Alec whispers, his voice tight with tension. The blade lights up in his hand and casts a faded light on his runes. “We have company.”

**Author's Note:**

> bidness: i remembered i do have a question  
> it's [the fic] short or medium?  
> and its for sexy bits or is there more to it  
> i_am_not: so...i have to tell u something,,,,  
> this was supposed to be smut only  
> bidness: LMFAO  
> i_am_not: but now we have a chekhov's gun i.e the potion and i'm too attached to let it go  
> idk what to do with it so i was thinking like a 2 chapter thing?  
> bidness: plot twist: the potion is a highly potent sex enhancer and it worked perfectly


End file.
